


The Quidditch Chronicles - Alternate Ending

by LaFeteMagique



Series: Loving Like a Potter [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Ending, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:14:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27014857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaFeteMagique/pseuds/LaFeteMagique
Summary: For all the readers of The Quidditch Chronicles that wanted James and Sophie to have their happy ending. Thank you to those of you who read and fell in love with their love story. I hope that this satisfies, though there is so much more that can be said.This picks up at C.17 of TQC with Sophie and James's wedding.
Relationships: James Sirius Potter/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Loving Like a Potter [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1803367
Comments: 15
Kudos: 7





	The Quidditch Chronicles - Alternate Ending

**Author's Note:**

> There was so much that can be included in this alternate ending, but in the I chose to keep it short and wrap up James and Sophie's story. That being said, I have about a million little headcanon details floating around so post any questions in comments or on my brand new tumblr page where I am posting character inspirations at https://lafetemagique.tumblr.com/. Lastly, if thinking about Sophie and James makes you want a good cry, may I suggest Keaton Henson's You as a soundtrack.

The flowers had been hastily ordered and the invitations rush-delivered from Ginny Potter's favorite stationery shop in Godric's Hollow. In three short weeks, the wedding had been planned and come together beautifully. Even if it is just a small backyard wedding at Iolanthe House and nothing like the society wedding Colin and Brigitte are sure to have the following spring. 

The last weekend of summer, the sun shining down on them. This is going to be a good day, James can feel it. He looks out the window of his childhood bedroom. Down below, past the horse stable, the fruit orchard, the garden house, and the practice quidditch pitch is the grassy bluff overlooking the sea. James can barely see it from here, but rows of chairs had been set up and adorned with bouquets of blue delphiniums mixed with white roses. Beneath a white lattice arch crowned with morning glory James and Sophie would marry in less than an hour. He smiles at the prospect of him and Sophie being together in marriage; somehow it seems just so much more complete than simply dating.

James walks back into his bedroom where his friends and brother are waiting.

"Are you lot ready?" James asks, buttoning the sleeves of his white tuxedo shirt before putting on his dress robes.

"The real question is are you ready, mate?" Freddie says, clapping James on the shoulder.

James takes a deep breath, "Surprisingly yes, I've never been more sure about anything. You have the rings right?"

"Of course I do, I'm your best man."

Harry opens the door to his son's bedroom and peeks in, "You boys almost ready to go? Ginny says to be down at the bluff in ten minutes."

"We'll only be a minute more" James replies.

"Good, Freddie, do you have the rings?"

"Got them right here Uncle Harry" he says, holding up the black box with the wedding bands.

"Right then, do you lads mind if I have a minute with James?" Harry asks.

Albus, Colin, Freddie and Jonah leave the room to wait outside in the hallway.

"How are you feeling?" Harry asks, placing his hands on his son's shoulders.

"Great," James says with a smile. James had been taller, broader than his father for years now, but when he looks his father in the eyes on the morning of his wedding, this time he actually feels like an adult too. 

"I love you, and I'm so proud of you and everything you've done for Sophie" says Harry, "I just want you to know that you can always come back to us. The times ahead aren't going to be easy by any means, but you have a family who loves you and friends that will be there for you and for Sophie. We'll be strong for you, and you will be strong for Sophie."

Harry gives James a quick hug, "Boys, get back in here. I think it's time for a little toast."

Albus, Freddie, Jonah and Colin return and Harry pours each of the boys a finger of firewhiskey. They enjoy their celebratory drink before Harry ushers them all down to the bluff for the ceremony.

In the garden house the girls aren't quite as ready yet. 

Sophie had chosen Dailey to be her maid of honor while Luella, Tabitha, and Brigitte made up the rest of her bridesmaids.

"Okay, step in," says Dailey holding the dress for Sophie.

Sophie takes her mum’s hand to balance as she steps into the white silk dress. Dailey helps her slip it on before zipping the dress up.

Sophie turns to see herself in the full-length mirror and smiles at her reflection. Her hair has been gently pulled back at the crown of her head and adorned with an antique Potter family tiara and a white chiffon veil. Her dress is a simple white silk with a modest v-neck in the front and back and her makeup is just a touch of color on her lips and cheeks that add a warmth and radiance to her already pretty face.

"Oh Sophie, you look gorgeous," says Dailey with a radiant smile of her own. She hugs her best friend tightly with an excited high-pitched squeak.

"I can't believe I'm getting married," Sophie says, smiling broadly. 

Sophie typically left such gushing and squealing to Dailey, and she had certainly never been the kind of girl who grew up dreaming of her wedding day, but she feels quite drunk on happiness.

Her mum walks up behind her, smoothing Sophie’s hair one last time. 

There is a soft knock at the door and Tabitha answers.

"It's time," Ginny says.

James and the groomsmen are already standing at the wedding arch and anxiously waiting. All of the close friends and family immediately stop chatting as the string quartet begins signaling the start of the ceremony.

Sophie takes James’s breath away as he watches her walking down the aisle. Her white dress makes her look just like an angel as the diaphanous fabric flowed with her every movement. He sees Sophie blush when they lock eyes, and his look of awe becomes a smile of pure ecstasy. He doesn't take his eyes off her the entire ceremony. Teddy Lupin performs the ceremony, magically bonds their rings, and before James knows it, it is kiss time. 

James leans forward ever so slowly, not quite believing they are about to take their first kiss as husband and wife. James's lips touch hers gently and then he wraps his arms around her and deepens the kiss. It takes all of James's willpower not to sweep Sophie into his arms right then and carry her away.

The reception too is a beautiful affair filled with laughter and the kind of merriment that had been rather lacking recently in the lives of the young bride and groom. 

James stands to give his toast before dinner begins, the sixty or so odd guests have their champagne coupes at the ready and he asks Elizabeth and his mum to present his wedding gift for Sophie.

“As most of you know when Sophie and I first met she thought I was an insufferable quidditch-obsessed git.”

‘Here, here’ Freddie cheers unhelpfully.

“Thanks, mate. Anyway, it took me a while to realize that I had fallen stupidly in love with her. Of course, I thought she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen, but she is also fiery and passionate and strong and makes me laugh. And I know, I just know that she makes me better, makes the world better just by being in it,” James says. 

He pulls out a large ivory envelope and hands it Sophie, “which is why I’d like to announce the Harlow Fellowship for Magical Creature Healing and Advocacy.”

Sophie opens the envelope to read the fellowship funding announcement, tears springing to her eyes at the incredibly thoughtful gift. 

“James this is amazing, thank you,” Sophie says sincerely, standing and kissing him.

“It wasn’t just me. My mum, Aunt Hermione and Healer Davies have helped to arrange it all, and your mum helped write the announcement. I love you, Sophie.”

The reception guests cheer and clank silverware against the champagne coupes. More toasts are made, generally in praise of Sophie and taking the piss out of James, which he accepts good-naturedly. 

After the dinner, James’s uncles George and Ron planned a spectacular firework show with shimmering gold wedding bells and hearts with James and Sophie’s initials, that was rather corny, but incredibly sweet.

“Absolute sap, Potter,” Freddie says affectionately, as James cheers at the firework show.

Following the fireworks, the wedding party leads the guests in dancing along to The Weird Sisters, the guests twirling around the makeshift dance floor overlooking the sea. Sophie notices that Healer Davies has been attentive and sweet with her mum all night and despite herself, Elizabeth seems to be smiling as she dances with the handsome older man.

Sophie meanwhile is dancing with Teddy Lupin and looking around the beautiful family that she and James had brought together. It was hard to imagine that just three years prior, her family had been her and her mum and her two best friends. Now, there were aunts and uncles, cousins galore, friends and colleagues. The eclectic group in spangled dress robes, dancing, and laughing were all there to celebrate her and James, and their love for one another.

“The Weasley-Potters sure are spectacular, aren’t they?” Teddy asks, as if reading her mind. 

Sophie smiles at Teddy, the sweet, fastidious young man who James so adored. 

“They’re so lovely, I’m grateful to have met them,” Sophie says sincerely. 

“And James is outrageously lucky to have met you,” Teddy says, squeezing her hand lightly to emphasize his meaning. 

"May I cut in?" asks a familiar voice, though one Sophie hadn't heard in a while.

Sophie turns to see Quinn and smiles as he places a hand around her narrow waist. Teddy steps away with a polite nod.

"I'm so glad you're here," Sophie says affectionately.

"I wouldn't miss it. Sophie, I know this is neither the time nor place, but- I still love you more than I should really. I just, I figured that you know, all things considered, I should at least tell you the truth."

"Quinn I-"

"That's why I've been distant lately and why I haven't been to see you much. I am so happy for you though. I mean, I only hope that one day I find someone who loves me the way James so obviously loves you."

At the mention of James's name Sophie turns to see him dancing with his grandmother Molly, who has been drying her teary eyes with a handkerchief all day. She laughs girlishly as James dips her unexpectedly. 

"You will Quinn, and you'll have every happiness," Sophie says with a brilliant smile.

As the song ends James looks around and locks eyes with Sophie. He begins making his way across the dance floor towards her.

"Quinn, please come see us. I miss you, I really do. Don't let another month go by, before I hear from you again," Sophie places a little kiss on Quinn's cheek, hugs him quickly and then makes her way over to James.

"What do you say Mrs. Potter, shall I take you home?" James says, wrapping his strong arms around her.

"Mrs. Potter, I quite like that," Sophie says, kissing his neck discreetly.

"Will you stop it, or else I'm going to have to take you in the garden house and ravish you there instead of our marriage bed" James says, only half-teasing.

"Take me home, James," Sophie says, grabbing his hand.

The following morning, James sits on the bed as Sophie continues sleeping soundly next to him. The sheets ruffle as a salt-scented breeze blows through the bright, airy bedroom. Sophie stirs slightly in her sleep beside him. James rubs his hand against her bare shoulder trying to settle her, and she curls into him with a small sigh.

James can't believe she won't be here always, waking up together as husband and wife.

James knows it is a dangerous thing to be thinking about, but as he sits in his bed, his new wife sleeping next to him, he thinks of the life Sophie and he could have together if she wasn't dying.

After all, this would be their home. Summerland with its overgrown gardens and fields of wildflowers nestled along the beach would be an idyllic place to raise a family, his and Sophie's family. He can imagine it with far more detail than he cares to admit.

They would have two children. A boy first, with his father's unruly black hair but Sophie's bright blue eyes. Then a little girl with her mother's chocolate brown hair cascading down her back in glossy waves. Maybe two little girls, because as much as James wanted a boy to bond with and roughhouse with, he had always had a special place in his heart for his younger sister. He would spoil his daughters with the most beautiful dolls from Paris and the prettiest hair ribbons that Sophie would plait into their hair before she went to work. She would be a marvelous Healer, the best at St. Mungos. And his little girls would want to be just like their mum when they grew up or maybe sporty like him, flying a broom before they can walk. While his son would go on to a dignified profession like an auror or maybe a professor. Their kids would play quidditch on the beach with him while Sophie read novels and tried not to worry about them falling.

James would spend his days at quidditch practice and occasionally he would be away if training or press tours required it. But, he would come home and he and Sophie would usher the house-elves out of the kitchen so they could have their alone time making dinner and sipping wine, just enjoying each other's company. And as the kids got older, James would teach his son to protect his sisters from roguish boys and broken hearts. James would punish his son when he broke his curfew and Sophie would argue with the girls as they began to dress themselves in something outrageous. 

He and Sophie might fight over what color to paint their bathroom and what to serve when they hosted Christmas tea. And eventually James would walk his own daughter down the aisle and give her away, even though her husband would never be good enough for his little girl. And then the house would be silent as his children moved away until it was just him and Sophie again. And maybe his hair would be gray and his athletic physique lost beneath sagging skin and Sophie's hands might be like crinkled crepe paper, but they would love each other just the same, holding with them the memories of a life well-lived.

James tries not to cry as he thinks of everything that could never be. He knows it is a bad idea to let himself dream this way.

Sophie groggily wakes and places a kiss on James's bare chest, "morning"

James clears his throat and blinks away the hot tears before mumbling his own good morning against her dark hair.

They spend the rest of the day that way, just lying in bed together while Pip brings their meals and tea.

James and Sophie have nowhere to be except with each other and that is just the way they like it.

* * *

As Summer nights become Autumn evenings, Sophie's health slips further and further away. James attends quidditch training or has matches while Sophie spends the days in bed reading, writing up her research or visiting with family and friends. Eventually, James tells Sophie that he has deferred into the Puddlemere United reserves for the remainder of the season and while Sophie protests with all the strength she can muster, James has made his decision. And Sophie both loves and hates that he made the decision for her.

Sometimes they had good days like Halloween. The children in the magical neighborhood of St. Ives make the trek up to Summerland and they walk through the foyer which had been transformed into a haunted house with James, Teddy, Albus and Freddie scaring the children in their elaborate costumes. Sophie sits at the exit of the haunted house, passing out sweets to the children and enjoying the looks of terror, bravado, and joy on the kids' faces.

It is on one of those good days that Sophie feels it necessary to talk to James about the future, the one that will happen without her. They sit on a swing in the wildly beautiful gardens of Summerland, the orange and red leaves of autumn littering the yard, but Sophie enjoys the warm glow from the rare November sun shining down.

"James, I need you to promise me something," Sophie says as her and James swing gently. He has one arm around her shoulders holding her close while the other arm holds the thick plaid blanket over them.

"Of course," James says.

"I need you to promise me you'll fall in love again. If it can't be me, then someone needs you to love them."

"I don't, I don't know if I can love after you, Sophie. I don't know if I'll have any more love."

"Listen to me James, you're too young not to love again, and have a family and give that love to others. You'll be a wonderful father and husband to someone, when I'm gone"

"No, I can’t. You’re my wife, you’re supposed to be the one that I spend my life with."

"James, you promised me. You'll meet her, I know you will, and just promise me that when you do you'll give her your love. Don't be afraid, because, because being in love is the absolute best feeling in the world, and the only reason I know that is because I'm in love with you."

"Sophie-"

"Promise me," Sophie says, this time with so much fierceness that James can only say one thing.

"I promise," James says and then kisses her passionately, his fingers tangling in her hair and concentrates hard on the moment, on never forgetting this feeling.

As Halloween gives way to the Christmas season, James wraps Sophie up in blankets and jackets and they walk down to the village. They drink hot chocolate and buy one-of- a- kind necklaces, paintings by local artists and handmade toys from the boutique shops for their friends and family. Sophie watches as James ice skates and she loves being out when the snow begins to fall in flakes, fat and white like diamonds from the sky. When they return home they curl up in front of the grand fireplace in the living room and drink even more hot chocolate and with the fire still barely flickering, they make love slowly and tenderly treasuring every touch, taste and moment. 

And then there are dark days, when everything seems to hint that today is the day. On those days the mediwitch shoos James away as Sophie is too weak to lift her head and too tired to take in food. On those days Sophie slips in and out of sleep and James plays chess or cards with whoever is visiting or drinks cup after cup of tea, anything to keep his hands occupied so he doesn't check Sophie's pulse every five seconds to see if she is still breathing. On those days, James hurries to send out owls to their friends and family to alert them that today just might be the day…

But, James is lucky when they are able to have one last Christmas together. Christmas is hosted at Summerland that year since Sophie is too ill to travel, but everyone tries to make the house as cheery as possible. Freddie comes over and he and James do their best to decorate the beachside mansion throwing tinsel everywhere and filling the house with no less than six Christmas trees. Everyone puts on a brave face and sings carols while Louis plays the piano. Elizabeth and Molly make enough pudding to feed a quidditch team. And Sophie is happy, happier than she could have believed herself to be.

Yet, all their pretending and bravado can't keep the truth away. Two days after Christmas is an especially bad day. Normally, the evening of the ministry ball, the Potter-Weasleys forgo that year’s event. Instead, their friends and family make their way to Summerland.

Sophie lays in bed breathing softly, slowly, but her forehead breaks out in a cold sweat with the effort. Now is the waiting period as James wipes the sweat from her forehead and holds her close. Elizabeth sits at her bedside, her face marred with grief, tears crying softly so as not to startle Sophie.

"James, can you just give me a second with my mum?" Sophie whispers panting.

"Of course," James says with a gentle kiss on the forehead before leaving the bedroom to stand right outside the door. He finds he can't cry, rather his grief is just a weight atop his shoulders, in his heart, in the very pit of his stomach.

The bedroom door opens with a soft creak and Elizabeth exits the room. 

Elizabeth turns to James and hugs him tightly before murmuring, "She wants you."

James nods and returns to Sophie. He joins her on the bed again and wraps his arms around her molding his body to hers.

She turns her head, wincing with the effort, to look at him. He sees her brilliant blue eyes, her ocean eyes, sparkle with the last of her strength. She places her hand against his chest; his deep life pulsing against her paper thin hands as she feels his strong beating heart. Sophie knows he will be okay.

"Sophie," James whispers as the ghost of a smile appears on her lips.

"James," she seems more to breathe, then whisper. He clutches her closer feeling her hot breath against him.

"James" she repeats and then she is silent, and he can't feel her breath any longer. And he is silent too.

Except, the small glowing orb the one that flashes and hums and prints out numbers on a report that James doesn’t understand is still glowing and Sophie doesn’t feel quite alive, but she’s not gone either. He knows it, she’s still there, somewhere. 

With as much care as he can, he extricates himself from Sophie, and as fast as he can he scrambles down the corridor from their bedroom down the stairs to the living room.

“Roger! Roger! Elizabeth! Come quick!”

Roger and Elizabeth look at each other in alarm and hurriedly follow James up the stairs. When they arrive in James and Sophie’s bedroom, the mediwitch is there reading the latest report and shaking her head in disbelief. 

On the bed Sophie’s body is convulsing violently, and she’s not awake but she is taking deep, gasping breaths as if she is being exorcised.

Roger is at her side holding Sophie by her narrow shoulders trying to keep her from hitting herself or falling off the bed, but she is thrashing wildly.

James is holding Elizabeth tightly as the look on their faces wide with horror, shock and maybe, just maybe a tiny bit of hope. 

“The emergency portkey, now!” Roger orders the mediwitch. 

She gathers the small token from the bedside table, “Can you move her like this?”

“I don’t think we have a choice,” suddenly Roger is looking at Elizabeth and James, “we need to get her to St. Mungo’s. Portkey is the safest, but are you okay with this? I don’t know what’s going on, she may not make it.”

Elizabeth looks to James and he realizes that he is her husband now. That this is his choice to make.

James nods, “Yes, yes!”

“Okay, I’m going to cast a body bind just so she can’t let go of the portkey. Meet us at St. Mungo’s as soon as you can.”

Roger swiftly pulls his wand and casts the curse. Her body does not go limp as expected, but simply slows its violent movements until she appears as though she is seizing in slow motion. 

Per Roger’s instruction, the mediwitch casts an _incarcerous_ spell to tie Sophie and Roger’s wrists together so that Roger can take the portkey. Roger looks at James and Elizabeth, his expression grave and grasps the coin. Suddenly, they are gone.

* * *

When the cadre of Weasley-Potters plus friends and family arrive at St. Mungo’s, Sophie is already in a hospital room with a team of healers.

James is pacing furiously enough in the corridor to burn a hole through the ground when Healer Martinez finally emerges.

Her normally neatly combed grey-streaked hair is frizzing around her face as she looks at the formidable Potter family and sighs. 

“She’s stable. We’re not sure how, but she’s stable. She’s stopped seizing and is in a coma.”

“But do you think- ?” James asks, hazel eyes wide

Healer Martinez raises her hand to interrupt James.

“Honestly? I have no idea what is happening. She is making magical medical history as we speak. Her body has shut down so that it can repair itself. Even if she wakes up-

“When- “

“Pardon?”

“When she wakes up, please I need you to say when,“ James says, his voice breaking with desperation.

“Be that as it may, she may be in a coma for days, months, possibly longer. When she wakes she could have injuries. Possible mental and physical health defects. Possible long term effects on her ability to do magic. Or she could be perfectly fine, as if waking from a long sleep. We just don’t know.”

James closes his eyes as Healer Martinez continues to speak, providing details on inflammatory markers and other tests the medical team is running. Roger and Victoire nod along following the conversation, but James can’t process the conversation at all. He feels his mum’s arm come around his shoulders, holding him steady.

“Her brain function shows a high-level of activity which is a good sign. You can see her, talk to her. And I promise you the second that we know more we will provide an update,” Healer Martinez says.

Sophie’s friends and family file into the room a few people at a time, but Elizabeth and James never leave her side.

Eventually, Roger convinces Elizabeth to step out for some fresh air and a cup of tea, but still James doesn’t move. 

He takes her hand, so small in his own, but warm still with life. She’s laying in bed, eyes closed, chest rising and falling softly, the deepest of sleeps.

James wants to tell her something important, to impart deep wisdom or call upon ancient magic, goddesses and deities.

Instead he lifts her hand to his lips and kisses the soft, pale skin whispering, “Come back to me, Sophie. Please, come back.”

* * *

**Five months later**

“James! James!”

Coach Haxton never stops practice, but Coach Haxton never has a visit from the inimitable Harry Potter striding across the quidditch pitch.

“I’m sorry coach, really sir,” his father says awkwardly.

Coach Haxton nods and blows the whistle and the players touch down on the field.

James is nervous, for nearly a year now sudden calls on the two-way mirror, emergency floo calls, unannounced apparitions- it’s never been good news.

His father is slightly breathless and his eyes shining, “James, she’s awake! Sophie’s awake!”

James’s jaw drops and his broom too as his hands come to his mouth.

He’s breathing hard and the tears are hot and fierce as his father’s arms come around him.

He looks up, his vision bleary and he sees his coach coming towards him, a whispered, “Go on, son”

With a squeeze and a pop, his father side apparates him to St. Mungo’s.

Healer Davies and Elizabeth are already there, and Sophie looks tired and a little disoriented, but she’s awake, holding her mum’s hand, a weak smile on her face.

Suddenly, for maybe the first time in his life, James feels shy, but then she looks at him as the door opens and he feels like he’s taken his first deep breath in a year when she smiles.

Because she’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen and it’s a week before her twenty-first birthday and she’s alive.

Her voice is hoarse after months of inuse, but she whispers, “James.”

* * *

She stays in the hospital for another week as Healer Martinez runs every test imaginable, but for all intents and purposes Sophie is healthy. 

Sophie cannot remember a thing about what she decides to call ‘a well-deserved kip’ after years of struggling with fatigue and illness. So she asks James, Dailey and her mum to tell her about everything she has missed.

As it turns out, five months is just enough time for Sophie to miss out on a few big things like _(Colin and Brigitte’s wedding, the end of Dailey and Magnus, a new song about Luella to hit number one)_ , but not enough time for much to change _(Roger still hasn’t worked up the proper nerve to ask Elizabeth on a date, Quinn is still working on the same project at the magineering firm that makes her head spin whenever he talks about it)_. 

When they arrive home at Summerland, she revels in the sight of the old whitewashed stone home with lavender and primrose growing over the path and the sundrenched view of the sparkling water. She’s finally home.

At night, James and Sophie bundle up and lay on the thick, plaid blanket in the garden.

Sophie traces the constellations with her fingers, telling James the stories she can remember from Astronomy classes and all the things she’s learned from Dailey over the years. 

“This is Lyra, the celestial harp given to Orpheus by Apollo. Dailey told me that if you gather dittany under Lyra at its brightest, then the healing properties are strong enough for even blood curses. But dittany doesn’t grow in seasons when Lyra is visible very often so it sells for a fortune. Orpheus played love songs on his harp to his wife Eurydice and the music was so beautiful that people, animals and even trees would stop to listen. Eurydice died suddenly and Orpheus was so heartbroken that he traveled to the underworld to beg Hades to release her back. Orpheus played his lyre and the music pleased Hades. Hades agreed to release Eurydice on one condition. Orpheus would trust Hades to keep his word and return to the upper world playing his music and not look back to see if she was following. If Orpheus doubted or did not trust Hades, Eurydice would be taken by Hades into the underworld. So Orpheus began his trip home while playing his music. But, while traveling through the pine forest, he could no longer hear Eurydice’s steps behind him. Orpheus looked back and just like he said he would Hades took Eurydice back to the underworld. When Orpheus died, Zeus placed the constellation Lyra in the sky to honor the beautiful music and the love between Orpheus and Eurydice.” 

“I know how Orpheus feels,” James says, running his hand through Sophie’s hair, “I would have done anything to have you come back to me.”

“I’m still here, James,” Sophie whispers, placing a small hand along his strong, stubbled jaw.

“Forgive me, if I never stop watching you again because I can’t quite believe it,” James says, kissing her temple softly.

He lays back on the blanket, twining his fingers with hers, “What do you want now, Sophie, in your second chance at life? Do you wish things could be different? Do you want to move to Buenos Aires or Los Angeles? Do you- do you still want to be married to me?” James asks. His tone is nervous, fearful even. 

Sophie smiles at James so bright it makes the stars pale in comparison, “You know it’s the most extraordinary thing, but I’ve been thinking about it all week and all I want is to go back to my life with you.”

* * *

So it goes.

Soon enough Sophie is doing her best to pick up where she left off. The last year of her healer studies, the grindiva virus research, the mermish rights advocacy. 

Of course, there is rehabilitation and physical therapy, regular exams and blood draws in the testing chamber, but everyday she is a little stronger. 

Eighteen months later James plays in his first World Cup and wins. He’s so happy when they get home from Seoul that he lays on the floor, tired and dusty after three portkeys in their big old manse by the sea and they make love right on the floor of the creaky old foyer. 

Six weeks later she’s pregnant, but four weeks later she’s not and he holds her all night while she cries and wonders about all the ways her body will continue to fail her.

_It was too soon. It was unplanned and impulsive, not at all like you, he says. Exactly like you, she says._

And while he aches for the child they lost deep in his heart, he feels guilty asking the universe for more because she came back to him and who is he to deserve more than one miracle in a singular lifetime?

She develops the first ever grindiva inoculation potion three years later. She gets published in magical medical journals and is asked to speak about her research all over the world at healing institutes and conferences. And they argue when she gets an opportunity to move to Geneva to work directly in the research chamber of the international magical medical organization. He has two more years on his Puddlemere contract and desperately wants to win a second World Cup. But he won’t hold her back. And she won’t go without him.

A year later, James loses in his second World Cup series. England doesn’t even make the finals. He’s upset, but he realizes he’s not devastated the way he thought he would be. He’s experienced true loss, the kind that paralyzes you from the inside out. Quidditch brings him joy and provides his livelihood, but the press junkets, the early practices, the sore muscles and long travel would never be enough without Sophie to come home to. 

“Are you nervous?” James asks, standing behind her as she smooths her hair in the bathroom mirror.

A golden script unfurls across the enchanted mirror ‘You look marvelous’

Sophie is getting ready to speak before the ICW. They are here in London and they are ratifying new medical international standards, including Sophie’s grindiva inoculation protocol.

“A bit,” she says, “this is a room of healers and researchers that I’ve admired for decades.”

“It’s your World Cup, only with a lot more life saving” James says with a smile.

Sophie laughs, but she can’t quite keep herself from glancing over at the pregnancy potion test on the bathroom counter.

James follows her gaze, “Let’s not worry about that now. We can go to the healer next week if you’d like.”

“Of course, yes. I should be going,” she says turning abruptly.

He reaches for her, taking her narrow hand in his, “Sophie, I love you. Always, forever, no matter what.”

That night James makes love to Sophie like he worships her, like she is his altar, his faith, his truth.

“You make love like you play quidditch,” Sophie says afterwards as they lay spent and sweaty between the sheets.

James lifts his head from her stomach and laughs, “What does that mean? Highly-skilled? Champion-like?”

“Don’t go getting a big head about it,” Sophie laughs, “I mean you’re strong, but graceful, unafraid. I can offer a quote to Freddie for his next article in _Quidditch Quarterly_ if you’d like.”

“I’m sure he would love that,” he says laughing. He looks up at her mischievously as he lowers his head back between her legs, “but never let it be said, that I’m not highly competitive.”

After years in which Sophie participates in as much medical research as she conducts, one day Healer Martinez and her team learn that the genetic mutation that caused Sophie’s autoimmune disease has gone dormant. They believe the coma saved her life as it gave her body the chance to repair itself. They are now experimenting with ways to safely magically induce a medical coma as a treatment. They also think it is likely passed through the male line of her father’s family. But they don’t know why or if it is affecting Sophie’s ability to carry a baby to term.

Months pass and they throw themselves into work yet again. Finally, James wins his second World Cup and Sophie works alongside merpeople on developing a concentrated form of gillyweed as a treatment for respiratory illnesses. 

They contemplate adoption and a social services worker calls them when a baby is left crying alone in a room at the Leaky Cauldron. A note tied to his chubby wrist, _I’m sorry, but I can’t._ When they finally bring home their baby, a pretty pink-cheeked little boy with long, dark lashes, they stay up all night watching his tiny chest rise and fall. Fabian James Harlow Potter, a sweet little mystery they’ve made their own. 

His mum and Elizabeth come over for a ‘Grandmums Day’ and while Elizabeth and Sophie prepare tea, James and Ginny play peekaboo with Fabian, his little shrieks of surprise when James 'reappears’ causing a flutter of delight in James’s stomach.

“How did you know?” James asks as Fabian coos at the quidditch-themed mobile on his playmat, a broom, quaffle and snitch fluttering over his perfect little face. 

“Know what, love?” Ginny asks, Fabian’s tiny fist wrapped around her finger. She and Harry can’t get enough of their grandchild. Their third after Auggie and Amelie, Teddy and Victoire’s children, now fourteen and ten.

“How did you know when it was time to walk away from quidditch?”

Ginny smiles looking down at Fabian and then at James, “When I realized that I could watch a match and appreciate it without missing it, because I knew the time I spent not playing was time well spent.”

Fabian fusses and James picks up his son, kissing the soft downy patch of dark hair on the top of his head, inhaling the fresh, powdery scent of his skin.

The following day they walk along the high street, James pushing the pram, Sophie fussing with Fabian’s blankets every few meters to make sure that he is warm enough in the crisp early October air.

They stop at the produce stand and while neither of them cooks or does the shopping for that matter, Sophie can’t resist buying a basket of plump blackberries.

“Perfectly in season, just picked this morning,” says the owner, a witch with a pleasant freckled face and long plait of sun-bleached blonde and gray.

“They look delicious,” Sophie replies, handing over a handful of sickles.

“They are high in vitamins and antioxidants. Good for the growing baby.”

“Oh he’s too young to eat fruits still, ” Sophie replies, hoping she doesn’t sound rude.

“I didn’t mean him, love,” the witch says with a knowing smile.

Sophie takes the packaged pint of berries and furrows her brow.

Sophie wakes the next morning and rushes to the bathroom, her stomach queasy. She doesn’t believe in old wives tales and she rarely trusts intuitive magic. She’s a healer after all, a researcher, evidence-based could be her middle name. But maybe?

She flushes the toilet and rummages under the bathroom counter for a pregnancy test potion, gradually stuffed behind toilet roll and bottles of cleaning elixirs. _Maybe, maybe._ For years now she hadn’t let herself think of the possibility. She gives up and casts a summoning spell for the potion bottle.

She pricks her finger and mixes the potion, her heart beating fast. She wants to hope, she knows miracles can happen. _Maybe, maybe._

* * *

James wakes to the sound of their springer spaniel Bramble shaking out at the foot of the bed, the dog’s collar jangling familiarly. He takes a deep breath of the fresh ocean breeze, warmer now with another Summer beginning. Sophie is still deep asleep next to him.

With a stretch, he rises even though it’s barely half past five in the morning. He has nowhere to be, he’s been retired from professional quidditch for two weeks but he can’t seem to break the habit of early mornings. 

Two World Cup wins, three league cups. One of the best players in England’s history. Reporters and fans wondered why he would stop playing at just thirty-one. He was at the top of his game, a third World Cup on the horizon, the record for most by a single player. But James had wondered if his heart was in it anymore, if the hours and travel were worth missing out on time with Sophie and Fabian. 

He remembers years ago when time is all they wanted. If only they had had more time. And they did finally, the long hands of time reaching before them.

Down the corridor, he can hear Fabian babbling from the nursery. When James walks in, Fabian is sitting, holding his feet in his hands. His diaper smells full and he has drool on the side of his tiny mouth, but he’s still the most charming thing James has ever seen and James just laughs and scoops up his son. 

He changes and cleans Fabian before bringing him back to the master bedroom, Bramble still trailing at his heels. 

Sophie is awake now, sitting up sleepy-eyed and hair mussed, holding little Allegra to her breast. 

James and Fabian sit back in bed alongside Sophie as Allegra nurses. James kisses Sophie’s forehead and brushes a soft strand of chocolate brown hair from her brow. Allegra’s gaze meets James’s in recognition and he smiles at his daughter, the dark hair and ocean blue eyes, so like her mother’s. From the very second he laid eyes on Allegra Elizabeth Harlow Potter, she had him wrapped around her tiny finger.

Bramble, never one to be left out of a family cuddle, jumps on the bed and settles himself between James’s legs alongside Fabian who immediately starts pulling at the dog’s long ears.

“Gentle, Fabian,” James says, taking Fabian’s hand and showing him how to softly pet the dog.

Sophie laughs, “Poor Bramble won’t have it easy when they both start walking,” she says, setting a milk-drunk Allegra back in her bassinet.

Sophie pulls Fabian into her lap and snuggles in close alongside James. He turns her face up to his and he kisses her softly, but deeply, a lifetime of memories and love pouring into the moment.

"Love you," she murmurs against his lips.

He’s still young. He doesn’t know a lot. He may never know why Sophie got sick and then she got better. He may never understand why Fabian lost everything, but he was the gift that gave him and Sophie everything. He’ll certainly never know what he did to deserve his second miracle in little Allegra. All he knows is that his children’s laughs are his favorite sound. The wildflowers and salt air at Summerland are his favorite scents. Sophie’s eyes are his favorite shade of blue. The curve of her waist is his favorite touch. And the most important thing he has ever done in his life is love.

  
  



End file.
